Can I Be A Hero? - Alphred's Log

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Alphred F. Jones
New Member

[M:0]

Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed.

Posts: 19

Can I Be A Hero? - Alphred's Log Jul 11, 2012 6:34:34 GMT -5

Post by Alphred F. Jones on Jul 11, 2012 6:34:34 GMT -5

ＴＨＥＤＩＡＲＹ
ＯＦＡＬＩＴＴＬＥＨＥＲＯ
A L o g B y A l p h r e d

No one talks to him about how he lives,
He thinks that the choices he makes are just his,
Doesn’t know he’s a leader with the way he behaves,
And others will follow the choices he’s made,

He lives on the edge, he’s old enough to decide,
His brother who wants to be him is just nine,
He can do what he wants because it’s his right,

The choices he makes change a nine-year-old's life.

[[ Picture from Zerochan c: ]]

Note:
1-4 and the Lost Files#1 are backstory for the character

Last Edit: Jul 11, 2012 17:51:46 GMT -5 by Alphred F. Jones

Alphred F. Jones
New Member

[M:0]

Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed.

Posts: 19

Can I Be A Hero? - Alphred's Log Jul 11, 2012 17:50:50 GMT -5

Post by Alphred F. Jones on Jul 11, 2012 17:50:50 GMT -5

A small journal rests underneath the boy's pillow; its pages crumpled and tattered with time. A soft, leather-bound cover starts the document, its texture worn and slightly ripped from use.
Aside from his brother, it's all he really has left of any life before the orphanage.

Inside of it, messy and scrawled handwriting fills its depths. Words flow along the leaf; effort is evident in the scratches and splotches of ink across the sheets of paper. Having little education or knowledge in his younger days, little Alphred doesn't have the best penmanship. But luckily with time and effort, he was able to learn some of the basics.

While it's not anything to die for, his handwriting is at least readable.

Still for the sake of those who decide to read this, his journals will be reprinted and cleaned up. We have tried to stay as close as possible to the source material and have done our best to maintain the young child's tone and style. Take note that the entries listed here come from the boy himself, and as such may be prone to sudden pauses or unknown blotches when interrupted. When this happens, we pray that you will also forgive the reinterpretations of vague and confusing word choices that may have been in the original.

No one is born a hero
that is something all can agree on.

It takes will and experience to succeed at becoming great.
And for young Alphred, he didn’t start off having much of either.

Majority of his life was spent in the small, crowded orphanage he had learned to call home. Now it wasn’t much, but it was something. And as long as he had his brother there along with him, he was content. He lived with a firm but sometimes-wavering hope that things would work out well for both of them in the end.

His priority mainly revolved around keeping his younger sibling happy and safe. But as we look into the child’s mind, we can see that it’s not really only because of the wish and desire to be selfless and considerate. On the contrary, most wouldn’t call him very self-denying when based on his attitude.

Some of it mainly had things to do with his wish to prove to himself and others that he could be a hero. Ever since the incident, he had begun to doubt his capability in terms of physical strength and wisdom.

And as he grew older, this subconsciously continued.

There were many times when he would feel that they had been put through so much, only to receive so little compensation in return. He believed that his brother and he didn’t deserve what had happened to them and that it supposedly was an adult’s job to be able to handle taking care of problems. A child wasn’t meant to handle such pressure.

But they didn’t have a choice, and he had to make something out of it.

While he was more than content with complaining and whining, there was nothing that could come out of it. For years he mainly ranted to whoever would listen, damning and condemning his luck and fate. One day, he had a sudden change of heart. He refused to speak aloud of the little fuse but briefly wrote about what had caused it in the journal that was found.

From that day on, he decided that he wanted to become a hero.
He wanted to be the one to help save others, to have a purpose.

The child desired to feel that he was in control, that he could handle anything that was thrown at him. He became obsessed with the thought of vigilantes, men and women of courage and strength, knights and conquerors. He wanted to be like them, ever in control of fate and destiny. He refused to feel like a puppet or doll any longer, thrown without mercy into anything the Lady Luck wanted to try out on them.

So, he set his mind on becoming a champion and a leading role.

From what he had seen, Luck worked with heroes and those who fought.

Yes, fate could seem cruel.
It could also be unnecessarily difficult.
But she shined her gifts on those who worked and those who struggled.
She granted strength to those who earned and asked for it.

Time passed on, the faint hope and courage he had gradually developed was repeatedly put through the test. Still, he knew he had to keep going.

He needed to forge a way to success, to make the most out of every situation they faced.

More often than he would have ever admitted, he broke down. Being a child, he was prone to fits of weakness and mistakes caused by inexperience.

Nevertheless, he trudged on. After every fall, he slowly hopped back onto his feet and continued the journey.

Because if he didn’t, who would?
He loved his brother, but he didn’t think that Matthew could stand the wear and strain.

He himself could hardly take it, and he was the older one.

There was no evidence that the younger one was really as weak as Alphred described him.
And until the day we can find Matthew’s account, we may never know.

Like two halves of a coin, their destinies were intertwined.
But it was inarguable that both were completely different people.
And as such, they had different points of view, experiences, and the likes.

Still these things made the two brothers who they are.
And whether they agreed on or accepted it or not, both had significant impact on each other's lives.
Like these accounts, you could only get a full story when both halves finally made a whole.

The picture would be made clear when both sides of the story are revealed.

So if you’re ready to go, let us proceed.

Welcome to the mind and life of young Alphred Jones, the boy who struggled to keep his loved one's innocence while maintaining his own sanity.
The desperate hero.
The innocent child.

The older brother.

Alphred F. Jones
New Member

[M:0]

Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed.

Posts: 19

Can I Be A Hero? - Alphred's Log Jul 11, 2012 17:52:39 GMT -5

Post by Alphred F. Jones on Jul 11, 2012 17:52:39 GMT -5

Alphred F. Jones-
Age 10

[/i];

Sitting atop the dark corner of a empty balcony, the young boy smiled.
In his hand, a journal sat cosily in his lap.

/Today/ he wrote, / I was able to get into the theatre just in time./

xxxxxxxxx

I was really lucky, seeing that right now the place is filled with people. If I had been a few minutes later, I don’t think I would have made it in. I think someone noticed me while I was going in, but I can’t do anything about it.

Besides, I wasn’t kicked out or anything.

Oh?

The performance is about to start.
But since I came a bit late, I couldn’t sneak into a better seat.
----------
Right now, they’re beginning the first act.

I can’t see anything, because my eyes are blurry.

It’s not really a problem though. When I squint, I can still make out their shapes and gestures a bit more easily. And, I can hear their voices and speeches too. I just wish I could see the costumes and props better. Everything looks like mashed up colours that you’d see on a canvas. It’s kind of like if you had paint and slathered it all over a surface.

Some parts mix and mingle while other stay out like chunks and
globs.

It’s been like that for a while now, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

Before, I was able to see well enough. But I guess my eyes got damaged or something as I grew older.

I wonder if there’s a way to get them repaired.

Can you fix sight?

Anyway, I just hope Matthew hasn’t noticed it yet.
I don’t want him to worry.

-----------

There are nobles sitting in the other areas.
You can tell from the weird formal air they give off.

I’ve noticed that they come in packs as well. They tend to stick close by and chat only with each other. There were some kids earlier near Matt’s age who were clinging onto their father’s sleeves.

Hmmm…I wonder if they’re like us. Do you think they play around and run in the rain as well?

Maybe they play hide and seek in their large homes with their friends.

When we get a home, I want to try as well.
----------

I came back from the theatre later than I expected. Nobody noticed though. Here, they’re pretty flexible with us.

----------

I overheard some people talking about Matthew and I.

I’m going to try and get a closer look.

After all it’s about us, right?
I’m sure they’d do the same.

----------
They’re arguing again, just like they always do. They think that at this rate, Matthew and I are hopeless. No one’s adopted us or even moved to try and do so in all our years of being here. They all skip over us and claim the others nearby.

Newcomers and veterans, old and new.

They’re all adopted before we are without a second thought.
I’ve seen it enough times to tell the routine.

That’s not our fault though.

What can we do if we’re not the children that they want?

I stayed a bit longer to hear what else they had to say. Maybe they could give me a reason. That way, we could fix whatever we were doing wrong.

What were the other children doing right that we weren’t?

According to them, we have a lot of potential. But people are scared of our backgrounds. They find it suspicious and don’t want to risk it. I wish I knew what they were talking about though. It's irritating to be in the dark.

{I wonder when we’ll get home.}
----------
Today, they woke me up really early in the morning. The sky was still a bit gloomy, making it hard to tell if it was morning or night.

Matthew was still asleep when they pulled me out of bed and had me change into other clothes.

I wanted to rest a bit more after yesterday, but they could be pretty convincing when they wanted to.

A few hours of sleep for more food and not having my head rammed into the wall.
Tempting.

One of the ladies there helped me put on a clean shirt after scrubbing my face with a wet rag. The cloth was cold and sticky on my skin, but it did wake me up at least. I'm surprised my face wasn't erased with her cleaning though. Every time I looked back at Matt though, I felt a bit worried. Was he sleeping ok? Were the dreams he told me about back?

The woman walked with me down the stairs right after. She said that they had managed to find two interested adults. Normally, I’m told to go with my brother into the grey, ‘talking room’. But this time, I was told to go alone.

I wonder what’s wrong…
Oh well, I’ll get back to this after I’m done.
----------
I was led into the wide, cold room and noticed some people there. The windows were frosted over, either from the cold air outdoors or the chill from inside. Whispering to one another was what I guessed was a husband and wife. The couple seemed to be of a lower-high class but had an attitude that I knew I wouldn't and didn’t like.

The most noticeable was the woman who was old with stringy, grey hair and tight wrinkles. Her face looked like it was covered with powder though, in an attempt to hide it. But it still looked like someone had pulled it at the edges and stuck the folds there.
Her mouth was pale and serious, as if she hadn’t laughed or smiled in a really long time too.

The scary thing was her eyes though.
They seemed so cold and dark.

It was as if there wasn’t even a speck of light in them.

She gripped me on the arm and lead me into the next room along with her husband. The way she held my wrist was tight and painful… like the way a person would grab onto a dog.

She dragged me like one too.

I told her it hurt but she didn’t react. She just looked at me with disgust and demanded that I sit down.

There wasn’t any affection in her eyes.
Just pure disdain and annoyance,
as if I was polluting the very air she was breathing in.

I didn’t want to be pinched again so I obeyed.

“ Child,” I remember her saying, (It might not be accurate, so bear with me here. Her voice made me sleepy.) “ Today, you are very lucky. My husband and I have come to take you away from this unsanitary and pathetic excuse for a building.”

The orphanage wasn’t much, but I didn’t think it was as bad as she described it.

“ You are to pack your bags immediately and report to the lobby to leave. Do not bring any unnecessary items, lest you want to see them discarded and burnt in front of your very eyes.

I would like to make your welcoming as comfortable as possible but am not afraid to use strict disciplinary measures if you refuse to behave or act rowdy. If you act like a mongrel, you will be treated like one as well.”

The man just nodded gravely and turned to look at his wife once again. Did he know how to talk? Maybe he was a robot programmed to agree and shoot lasers. Oh! Oh! Or maybe he was one of those nin-jas who hid in the shadows. ... But he could have been a mime too. Yeah! Could he make a box around him or do that rope thingy?

Anyway, I didn’t like these people.
But if it would allow us to leave, I’d deal with it.

“Ok.” I remember asking hero-i-cally “ But what about my brother? He's still asleep. Shouldn't we wait for him?”

Glancing at each other, the couple laughed.

“Child,” the husband said, clearing his throat, “ We’re only willing to spend money for one brat. And even that was a stretch.

Now get your belongings,
you’ll never get another opportunity like that again.”

----------

That day, I returned to my room with a scolding and a lot of ~~bruises~~ battle scars.

I told Matthew about it and talked about how I showed them who's boss! I told him that as soon as they said that, I stood up on the table and punched the woman on the face. She growled like a dinosaur and tried to claw at me like a cat. But, I wasn't scared! I fought back and managed to hold her down. Then her husband came and tried to tackle me. I ducked and he rammed into the lady.

They both ended up surrendering and running away crying. While they went, the yelled about how they regretted messing around with us. They had underestimated us and never thought that I could be so strong. The whole time, Matthew listened with an enthusiastic face and lit up eyes. He believed me, and why wouldn't he?

Why would his brother lie to him?

The question if they would come back after regrouping came up, but I managed to comfort him.

I knew for sure that the couple would and will never come back--
and if they know what's best for them, they shouldn't.

Then I was asked if I had doubted for a second.
I said "Of course not. What kind of hero would I be if I had? My only regret was, I wasn't able to see if the man had a plug on his butt."

....
He believed me.
Just like he always does.

And then we were both able to eat breakfast together.
Just like nothing had happened.

But...
Hey.

Umm....
Can you keep a secret?

....
You’ll never know how tempting it was to say yes.

The pain I felt when refusing was one which may never go away.
But not because of the lost chance.
No.

It was because I was even willing to even think about the option in the first place. The fact that I was weak enough to almost agree… I shouldn't be this easily tricked by the sparkling jewelery and clean coats... right?

But my stomach got the best of me. Just watching them walk around with enough to eat and warm clothes made me feel... in-a-de...qua-te.

Is that the word for it?

They looked so well-off. And they didn't have to sneak in the theatre to watch a show.

The only thing was, they didn't seem happy. In fact, they looked like they were bored.

I didn't have anything but my brother, but I was still ok.

I could still smile naturally.

....
I don’t think I can look at Matt in the face for a while after this.
All he’d see is a coward.

How could I even think of agreeing in the first place? He was there with me when we first came here, he’d leave with me when we finally got out.

I told the couple this, and they got mad. The woman was outraged and stomped her foot like she was stepping on a bug. The man turned as red as a beet or an apple. If he could have steam pouring out of his ears, he probably would have.

{Maybe he wasn't a mechanical thingy after all. }

He grabbed me by the collar, but I didn't cry.
He threw me into the wall, but I didn't whimper.
She yelled and cursed at me, but I didn't care.

Soon after, they left without even looking back.
The man kept saying I’d regret it, but I don’t think I will.

Nobody tries to separate me from by brother.
Who else can protect him?

--
[ End of Journal 1]

[/font]

Alphred F. Jones
New Member

[M:0]

Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed.

Posts: 19

Can I Be A Hero? - Alphred's Log Jul 11, 2012 17:53:37 GMT -5

Post by Alphred F. Jones on Jul 11, 2012 17:53:37 GMT -5

Alphred F. Jones-
Age 10

[/i];

Today, I found something in the snow.

While I was walking around the City's edge ( That was the farthest I could go. They said the outskirts were too dangerous to pass through.) I noticed a little tuft of hair sticking out of the ground. It had big, long ears that looked like they were soft and velvety to touch.

I didn't know what it was so I poked it with a stick.
When it didn't respond, I poked it again.
And again.

It didn't bite me.

Popping out from beneath the snow, a little animal stumbled out. It had brown almond shape eyes and fuzzy, chocolate coloured fur. Little white splotches covered the light brown mocha as if cream or spilled milk had fallen onto it. It had a short, fluffy cotton tail that looked wispy and.... ummm.... cottony..... in the sunlight. I wanted to poke it some more until I noticed that its leg was.... weird.

There was some weird red liquid dripping down its foot. It slipped slowly down its heel, dyeing it in a scarlet strawberry sauce. At least, that's what it looked like. I stuck my finger in it to see how it tasted but it didn't taste good.

It tasted like metal.

An arrow was pro-tru-ding out of its flesh like one of those weird levers you'd see in a con-t-rap....con-trap-....mechanical thingy. It looked like the thing had been injured by a hunter... or someone with a bow. But only nobles and hunters had bows and arrows, right? In the corner of my eye, I noticed another one. It was smaller and pure white.

Anyway, I went over to help it feel better. The first was dirty and covered with mud, but it was still soft. The mud hadn't crusted over yet apparently. So, I scooped both up and brought them 'home'. While I was walking back, I could feel the chocolate one shivering in my arms. Was it cold? Or was it scared like I had been?

Maybe the two were brothers.
They didn't look alike, but neither did Matt and I.

Nana would know what to do.

Nana is one of the nice 'mommies' in the orphanage. Even if she just works there to take care of the kids, she still cares for us. She brings me cake and extra food to share with Matthew sometimes.

I don't know her real name though, so I call her Nana.

------
As I went through the City again, nobles kept glaring at me. They didn't like the fact that I was dirty.

I wonder if that's how they felt about the little creature as well.
------

I managed to get back to the orphanage and show the animals to Nana. She said it was called a rab-bit or bun-ny. She also said that the chocolate one was in bad shape, but it might survive. The white one was sick.... And it wasn't feeling very well. Could we give it medicine? Nana said bunnies don't drink medicine.

She took the little animals and put them into a box. I got my pillow and placed it inside so it stays comfy. Do rab-bits get cold?

They have fur.
Would that keep them warm?

We removed the arrow from the Chocolate Bunny's leg and bandaged it.
My spare shirt was getting small anyway.
--------

I asked her if we could name them, and she shook her head. She said 'Not to get too attached. The little dears may be going on a trip soon.' I asked if they would see their mommy and daddy again. Nana smiled and said they would.

I asked if Matt and I would go there too. And if we would see them as well. Nana shrugged and told me not to think about it. She said " The time will come but it hasn't yet."

I didn't get it, so I went over to the bunnies. They were fast asleep and cuddled up next together....

Hmm....
Why was her face so sad?
Everything will be alright, won't it?
-------

The bunnies are doing well. The white rabbit is moving a bit more while the brown one is recovering from his injury.

-------

It's been four days and the chocolate bunny is starting to hop around.
I think they're doing better.

Nana made a 'tsk' sound when she saw the white rabbit though.
What's wrong with it?

-------

This morning, the white rabbit passed away. Nana said it fell into a deep sleep beside its brother.

The chocolate bunny seemed lonely, so I removed it from the box and put it in my bed. Today, we're having a funeral for his brother. We buried the white one in the yard in a pretty little shoebox. Matt helped me make a grave marker for it the day before. I found a bunch of pretty flowers and placed it on top of the sight. There~

Now it can see mom and dad again.

Chocolate bunny was snuggled into my arms.
He misses his brother.

-------
I named chocolate bunny.
His name is Hero
and he's beside me while I'm writing this.

I'm going to make sure that he's safe and help him recover.
I'll be his brother now as well.
---
[end of journal 2]

Last Edit: Jul 11, 2012 17:54:22 GMT -5 by Alphred F. Jones

Alphred F. Jones
New Member

[M:0]

Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed.

Posts: 19

Can I Be A Hero? - Alphred's Log Jul 11, 2012 17:54:54 GMT -5

Post by Alphred F. Jones on Jul 11, 2012 17:54:54 GMT -5

Alphred F. Jones-
Age 10

[/i];

People keep telling me about a place where everyone is happy... Where everyone is free.

But what is it to actually be free?

Is in-de-pen-den-ce just being able to say that you're not being hurt by anyone?
Or is there something more to it?

----------

A long time ago, I had a dream.
And it wasn't just a normal dream that faded as I moved through the day.
It was a dream that stayed with me.
A dream which I could never forget.

In that dream, I saw a man kiss his son goodbye. I saw that father give one last look at his child before turning away from him, before leaving him to live by himself for himself. The boy was crying as his father turned towards the dusty path that lay before him, asking for his dad to stay with him. He was desperate and alone; he didn't know if he could survive on his own. He needed someone to guide him, to help him live and grow.

He wasn't ready to take the world like a soldier.
Because he wasn't a soldier.
He wasn't a hero.
He was a child.

He held onto his father's sleeve, kept calling out for him to come back. With tears blocking his vision and a hoarse throat, the boy kneeled on the ground sobbing. " Come back!" he yelled, voice fading with the wind " I can't even stand without you! How can I be expected to live on my own?"

To that, the father replied.
" With experience, you will learn to fight on your own. You will fall and crawl many times, scrape your knees and bruise your hands and face. You will bleed, I assure you of that. But those wounds are not permanent. With time and care, they will heal. And gradually, you will be able to stand.

The wear and tear will beat at your body,
but you will be able to walk and move forward.

And from the scars, you will never forget."

Next, the child cried.
" Come back!" he yelled, rubbing at his eyes, " I can't even see! How can I be expected to live on my own?"

To that, the father replied.
" In life, you will face eternal cold and darkness. The world is filled with shadows that blind you from hope and light. But as you learn to see for yourself, as you roam through the shadows and hit the walls, as you suffer alone in the dark depths of despair, you will learn to see the faint light that always rests and waits in the shadows. You will be able to see the pinprick of luminance in even the darkest of chasms. And from that, your eyes will be able to see hope.

You will be able to see,
after first being blind."

Finally, the boy screamed.
" What kind of father are you?" he wept, body shaking, " I thought you loved me! What did I do wrong? What made you hate me so much? What made me so unworthy of having a father?

I know I'm not perfect... but that's no reason to leave me! I can get better! I can be the son you want!

I'm sorry I failed!"

To that, the man turned around. Caressing the boy's face in his hands, he looked down into the boy's eyes. In silence, they both stared at one another.

(And from that moment, the boy could see how strong his father was.)

" Son," he said, " I love you. Never doubt that.
And you are never a failure until you allow yourself to believe that you are.

If I could, I would stay by your side and watch you grow. I would hold your hand as you moved through the milestones of life, would be there as you ran through this insane course and maze of maturity and reality. I would catch you as you learned to fall and stand on your own. I would hug you in pride as you succeeded and hug you in consolation as you failed.

But throughout it all, I would choose to always be by your side. I would want to be there to kiss you good night and read you a bed time story as you drifted into sleep.

I would want to watch as you find your first love and start a family of your own.
I would want to watch as you grew taller and stronger.
I would even want to watch as you left me to live on your own,
as you forgot about me in the rabble of memories that you'll make for yourself.

But in a land far away, there are other children like you who cry for help. There are other kids, old and young, who seek for someone to save them. And they--all those men and women--they are my children as well. And as a father, I must make sure that they receive my care. I must love them like I love you."

Holding the boy in his arms, he pointed up at the star that fell from the heavens above. "But do you see that sky?" he said gently, " Did you know that no matter where you are, you always gaze up at the same moon and stars? The land around you is different, but the sky is always the same. Expanding over the horizons, it connects the rugged frontiers to the snow-capped mountains.

That will always be the sky that I see.
That will always be the sky that you see.

So for now, you must be a soldier. I know you are only a child, but you must move on. You must carry on fighting through the struggles; You must carry on living and breathing.

But know that as long as that sky stays in the air, you will never be alone. There will always be someone else watching from those heavens, rooting you on as you stumble and fall.

Alphred, you will grow to become a great hero.
You have so much potential, and I am so proud of that.

But to become a hero, you need to fight. "

" What if I can't?" the boy squeaked, " What if I fail?"

" Then you go down with pride. But you must never go down without fighting. Let your enemies see you fall but never give them the pleasure of saying that they saw you give up.

But for now though, you have to be brave. Although it may be scary to live in such a world like this, it's the only we have.

If I could bring you to a place where I didn't have to worry about things like this, I would. It just so happens that no such world exists except for in our imagination and the past."

Releasing the boy, the man gave a soft smile. And after giving him a gentle pet on the head, the man turned around and left his child in the dust.

He was never seen again.

"Make me proud, kiddo.
Become free."

------------

Again I ask what independence is.

Is independence when you leave the people you love and forget about them?

Or is independence looking at the same sky as someone you love but moving on to do what's best for them?

When you live in a weird world without freedom, is there anyway to get it back? If I gave my life like that, could I get it back?
Could I do something with as much meaning?

And who are those other kids who needed to be fought for as well?
Do they appreciate it?
Do they remember it?

If I ever got to talk to them about it, I would tell them not to regret that man's sacrifice. Or anyone who chooses to take a similar road.

They chose to fight; they chose to use his freedom to help others, to help us. Sure, we may lose someone in the process. But I guess in the end, it brings us closer to becoming happy again. And that's always what family wants for us.

Yeah, they're still family.
Even if now, they may be farther away than we can ever reach.

If someone ever finds this journal, I want to leave a message.
I may never meet you; I may never be able to speak to you.
But maybe even without knowing you, I can do my part.

It might seem that we have a cracked family, one that will never be repaired. But maybe we can make families for ourselves.

Hey, we all live in the same place.
Why can't we all be family?

Do you see that sky above you?
I don't know where you are and you don't know where I am.
But still, we're connected by the same blue, black, yellow, or orange horizon.

Hey, do you feel lonely right now?
I do.

But I know that you're there.
And maybe you know that I am too.

Remember that I'll be rooting for you as well.
{Will you maybe root for me too?}

Ever since that dream, you know I've been fighting hard.
I've been falling, and tripping, and stumbling, and hurting.

But, I know how to walk now.

[end of journal 3]

SPOILER: Click to show

Word Count: 1561

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Alphred F. Jones
New Member

[M:0]

Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed.

Posts: 19

Can I Be A Hero? - Alphred's Log Jul 11, 2012 17:56:25 GMT -5

Post by Alphred F. Jones on Jul 11, 2012 17:56:25 GMT -5

SPOILER: Click to show

Hello'~

It's me again, Al, but I suppose you would've known that if you'd read the cover... or the last few entries.

But an-y-way~

T'day I went down to the ol' cobbl'd streets to see a gatherin' of people who'd nev'r been there before. They whispered on an' on bout' how there was a new case up n' runnin' and a criminal out f'r the nabbin'. Underneath their feet was a blood-covered lass, her eyes wide open as if she was just starin' blindly up at ta' sky.

{Uhhh... Yeah.
And they talked like that.
I think that style 'll catch on eventually.}

What d' you think?
Matth'w just stared at me an' said:
"Errr...Al? Why are you talking like someone from the pub?"

An' I thought, 'It doesn't sound like someone who just came out of the pub! '

So I went all up in his face an' said ta' him:
" Ya, bloody git! I ain't talkin' like no man fr'm the pub!"
Then matron came over and hurl'd my butt over to bed aft'r gettin' a bloody piece of soap and scrubbin' my mouth clean. So I look'd at her an' said " Oi, ya bloody hag! Whatch'a do that for? Try'n ta' kill me, ya wanker?"

No dessert tonight.
No one understands my humour

{ what's a wanker anyway?}

Huh?
Oh, the case.

Right...
I'll write about that since I don't really have anything to do.

I went down to the City to see if there was anything interesting there and I overheard a couple of men talking about a criminal called The Ripper. And not the paper ripper-kind, mind you. No, he was a murderer who killed in cold blood.

At least, that's what they said.

You should've seen it! The ground was covered, the woman was covered, the passerbys were covered, but her purse was closed and intact. According to the stones, the victim had disappeared a few days before-- only to be found in the same alley she had last been sighted in.

Now, people are getting worried.
The killer's targetting kid and women, disposing of them in the same way one after another. Some people are saying that it's a vengeful lady whose quest for vengeance drove her insane. Others say it's an indifferent and cold- hearted man who'd sold his soul to the demons for power but lost his mind in the process.

Old people and young are equally wary of one another, seeing a potential killer in each other's eyes. No one trusts each other anymore because they're all worried that their friends and family may be the cause and reason. For all they know, their neighbour might be planning on giving them up as a sacrifice in order to appease the killer's lust for blood.

Sounds scary, doesn't it?

I want to check it out.

Whatever it is, it has a routine and always kills them through the same means and weapons.
And whoever it is, it doesn't have the right to kill off another person. People aren't just toys! They deserve to live and make loves for themselves!

The people need a hero to solve this case!
And I want to be that hero.

So tonight, I planning on roaming the streets and looking for whoever it is that did it. I'm going sneak out and catch the killer!

You'll be cheering me on, right?

Alphred F. Jones
New Member

[M:0]

Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed.

Posts: 19

Can I Be A Hero? - Alphred's Log Jul 11, 2012 17:56:56 GMT -5

Post by Alphred F. Jones on Jul 11, 2012 17:56:56 GMT -5

He wasn't a happy child when he first came to the orphanage.

Bruised and silent the young boy sat atop his little bed, encased in the warm and cozy blankets that surrounded him like a cocoon. The workers had given up on trying to talk to him, left him to mourn and cringe on his lonesome.

{But he was fine with that for the moment.
He just needed time to rest…
Time to recover from his injuries…
Time to learn to walk again.}

After all, they couldn’t do anything if the kid didn’t want to talk. No matter how much they pushed, no matter how hard they tried to get him to say something--anything at all--they wouldn’t be able to get a word out of him if he wasn’t ready. They could force him to talk, make him say what was wrong to alert the authorities faster, but what would that get them?

A traumatised and threatened child?
That would just make everything worse.

A thin line pressed against his mouth, a tired breath escaped from the orphan’s lips. Chest heaving from the pain of breathing, the boy winced. Around his body, a ripped up and tattered shirt clung on in desperate hope to stay together.

It wasn’t the only thing breaking apart.

'It hurt to inhale…'
----

He couldn’t cry though.
If he did, he didn’t know how much would come out.
If he did, he didn’t know how much he could stop.

He couldn’t stand either.
If he did, he knew he would fall again.
And if he did, would he be able to get back up again?

A little bird twittered gently outside, singing a song of light and hope.
But from behind the glass, why couldn’t he hear anything?

An ache throbbed against his head, splitting agony pierced through his little body. Forcing himself up, the boy bit down on his tongue. A soundless scream erupted from his throat, blocking his air and clogging his breathing; eyes dilated as the sharp sting crashed against his senses like a leviathan. Arms shaking with effort, the boy twitched and trembled with pure anguish as he ever gradually managed to lift himself from the bed. The blankets fell off his shoulders as he moved, layers were shed as he took slow, painful steps forward. Pressure pushed down onto his shoulders, making him feel as if he was locked down and trapped like an imprisoned animal; a rush of emotions overcame him, drowning the little orphan in fear and confusion. He was being choked with the pure hopelessness from being unable to do anything, being suffocated by the realisation of how useless he truly was. Holding a hand to his nose, the boy swiped quickly at it. Blood caught on his hand but was quickly wiped onto his clothes, staining the ripped up and dirty shirt left on his weak frame.

Feet padding across the wooden surface beneath, the boy swallowed. Tasting the sharp, metallic flavor of blood intermixed with the drying saliva in his mouth, he gave a hard cough.

Losing balance from the force pressing down on his legs, he crashed to the ground. Feeling the icy cold, solid surface of the wooden floor against his skin, the boy blinked.

Rubbing wearily at his blue-black splotched eye, the boy looked back at the bed on the other side of the room. Formerly vivid blue eyes seemed to fade to grey as tearless eyes began to grow accustomed to the dark. As red liquid dripped down his face, blood fell into a expanding pool beside him. Mind hazing over, the boy's eyes began to droop shut.

He was so tired... So exhausted...
All he wanted to do was sleep.

His body, although cold from the outside air of the orphanage, felt a mixture of warm, humid and numb. It was a horrible sensation that made him feel like throwing up, which he probably would have if he had had anything in his stomach to vomit out earlier. His muscles felt stiff as the slightest movement of his neck sparked crackling pain behind his head. The sharp ache had reduced to a soft throb as his body relaxed under the extreme fatigue his body was going through. One by one, it felt like everything in his body was shutting down.

In the faraway bed, a small figure moaned and twitched. Rippling with movement, the soft blue blankets flowed like a small tidal wave. A soft yelp escaped the covers as the figure stiffened and fell back into unconsciousness. Facing back to the window, the older brother’s eyes drew back to the outside world. Sleepless, worn-out, fading vision hazed over and fogged, formerly clear shapes began to distort and twist. What seemed so vivid was now as clear as muddy, dirty water.

He was...
a hero...

He was...a...hero...

Darkness began to cross his vision, embracing the boy in its soft arms.
They were like the arms of a mother, weren't they?
The arms that would never let you go... never leave you alone.

A blue blanket had fallen to the ground, leaving a young boy blanketless.

Pushing himself across the ground to get it, the older brother cringed.
Just a little closer...
And his brother would be warm again.

Velvet-like softness lay across his eyes, making him feel lax and comfy; the sound of silence rocked him to a slow sleep. Fingers growing limper and limper, the boy yawned softly. Closer began to seem like miles away to the young boy. But with the last of his energy, he managed to place the fallen cloth on Matthew once again.

Maybe now, he could rest.
Bright sunlight pulsed from outside the window, the bird flew away back home.
Maybe he would find his little home as well.

If he slept for a few minutes...
It wouldn't make a difference....

"Al," a familiar voice said from afar.
Or was it from nearby?

Alphred couldn't tell anymore.
"Are you there?"

Looking up at the source of the voice, the boy smiled. He couldn't see very well, but he could tell it was his brother. No one else made him feel so... strong. " Y-yeah." he replied, his voice sounding unnatural to even his own ears.

" Don't give up," the small voice said, as the younger brother carefully climbed down from the bed. Wrapping himself and the elder up in the blue blanket, the younger one smiled gently.

" You're not alone...
I'm here too.
Just because you don't always see me, doesn't mean I'm not here, you know."

"What's your name again?"

" Matthew." the voice said, before becoming silent. A weight fell across his shoulder,
but it wasn't painful like before.

{He had probably fallen asleep again.}

" Well then, Matthew.
Maybe I'll let you be the hero...

just for a little while."

Alphred F. Jones
New Member

[M:0]

Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed.

Posts: 19

Can I Be A Hero? - Alphred's Log Jul 11, 2012 17:57:36 GMT -5

Post by Alphred F. Jones on Jul 11, 2012 17:57:36 GMT -5

With an impatient swipe, dust-coated hands brushed away at the dirty blonde bangs pricking uncomfortably at the young boy's face. Across the room chests rose up and down to the sound of hushed breathing as the occasional satisfied mumble made its way out of the occasional child's mouth.
There a young orphan lay sitting, underneath the small wood-framed window of the only home he could remember. A subtle ray of moonlight shined across the garden outside, bathing the cluster of trees in its vivid luminosity. In soft melody below, the sounds of crickets pierced through the night air; their chirps were the only noise heard underneath the dark midnight sky.

Sucked within the comforts of sleep and dreams, children all over had been enveloped in a world made by and for respite.

It was a land of fantasy and idealism that existed beyond eye's reach, the same world where beautiful fairies fluttered and mighty griffins roamed. In this realm of perfection and wonder, brave knights in gold rode through fields of lush vegetation, their armour glin-glin-glinting 'derneath the soft, silver beams of the bright, ivory moon. Above-head lay a velveteen blanket that extended across the horizon, its surface undisturbed and smooth as the spider's woven silk. Like the flowing trail of a magnificent king's robe, its night sky stretched across thrones of gold and castles of silver, past fortresses toppled down and empires newly risen. Such a land of mystique and wonder, hidden from all but those who knew where to look. For with the simple closing of the eyes, you could be teleported to any place you wish! No place was too far; no land was too near; no wish was too impossible or unbelievable.

For those reasons alone, the boy liked to keep his eyes towards the sky and his head in the clouds.

Because really....how dull reality was, with all its unnecessary rules and expectations!
Who on earth would want to focus on such things as problems and limitations?

When a land of milk and honey lay so easily in one's grasp, why would anyone want to bother stopping or holding back?

Why care about being 'realistic' and ' grounded' if it led to nothing but being chained down?
Because no matter how much people denied or argued, one thing was a fact and everyone knew it!

Logic was boring and reality a prison!
Even if you embraced it with all your heart, there would always be that empty void....

The yearning for adventure; the desire for happiness; and the knowledge that there was so much more!

But something had shook him, something had thrown him out of the world he had created on his own...even if only temporarily. And now he was alone, sitting in the dark and completely vulnerable to reality. The next day or the next week, he would recover; then he would laugh, smile and get better. But until then, he had to face the bleakness; he had to be a real-life hero.

And he didn't like it.
Not one bit.

Against the surface of his bare flesh, the wooden floor felt cold...colder than he had ever noticed or thought it could be. Shadows swirled and shifted across the walls, dancing to a taunting rhapsody unheard by all but themselves.

But unlike Matthew, he wasn't scared.
He couldn't be scared.

(A hero never felt fear.
A hero couldn't feel fear.
A hero knew no fear.)

A throbbing pain pulsed in his head, probably the result of his latest adventure coming to a final curtain call. His body was as worn as it had been when the injuries had first ripped messily through his flesh; the jagged rocks had pierced through layers of his arm and legs, leaving a runny, bloody mess along his bruised and battered skin. Open wounds dripped and spilled, coating the scratched up blanket in a red tint; bruises formerly bearable began to take a hideous blue and black tint. He had been able to get away with hiding the really gruesome injuries, but people still felt a bit suspicious about his explanation. If things really were what he said they were, then how could anyone gotten into such big a brawl? And the scratches.... Unless his opponent had really rough claws, then it couldn't have just been a street fight.

Wincing at the sight of the wounds, he soon after centred his attention back on watching out for any onlookers or unexpected visitors.
The last thing he wanted was to rack his brain out for another excuse.

-----

Back straight and eyes focused, the boy squinted though the darkness.
So far, there was nobody there.

Seconds and minutes gradually ticked by, confirming his hopes that everyone was either asleep or out. Urging him to do the same his tired body warned him of its shutting down as his eyes began to grow heavier and heavier.

It needed its rest; he could just finish his business the next day.

But his mind was still working way too fast to even think about resting, to the point that any attempt to sleep would probably end up in failure. He knew that as soon as he tried to lie down, the mystery of the object would enthrall and capture him. Every aggravating minute would be another moment of impatience and anxiety, leading him to wonder and worry to himself until the sun finally rose. He'd end up kicking and squirming until morning, thus suffering from a sleepless night and becoming more tired than he had been originally.

So, it seemed like a better option to try and test his limits instead.

Placing a trembling hand in his pocket, the boy's eyes gave the walls a last look.

It was the moment of truth...
The time to finally and fully look at the prize he had earned.

Clasping his fingers slowly around something smooth and cold, he pulled out a little package. He had wrapped the object inside a scrap piece of paper, just to make sure that no one would snatch it!

Taking a deep breath, the boy steeled himself up. Pulling it out and opening the package he suppressed a large grin....only to find....
....find....

"N-Nothing?"

There was nothing there!
Had the object fallen out?

A wave of nausea hit him, followed by a sudden feeling of unadulterated anger and fury. Memories of his trials and tests flowed back to mind like a rushing flood. The ladder...the walls...the doors....the desperation....everything. Those moments of helplessness and confusion, those feelings of loss and depression, the pain of falling to the ground before he could even scream or cry.... Every blood curling moment; every heart-renching scream; all of it returned new and as worse as ever. He couldn't save the ones who had entered before; he couldn't save the ones who would go in after; he barely saved himself!

It had been that stranger's fault! That mister Xerxes!
He was the one who made him so hurt! Made everyone else hurt!
He was the bad guy, and he ( the hero) had done nothing but fallen into his trap!

And for what?!
For him to lose the only thing garnered from it!

How he wanted to grab the nearest breakable thing and fling it at the wall! How passionately he desired to see it smash into thousands of pieces! If he had never tried to get the prize, he wouldn't have had any of those scars that he had now!

And look what happened !
He was supposed to use it to find them a family!
To find their real parents!
To find a home for them!

And he had messed up!

A rush of anger took over him, making him want to scream and hit something. Grip tightening and teeth clenched he felt like crying out.

The boy wanted to shriek so loudly that all things nearby would hear him.
He wanted to...
He wanted to--

" I want to find the way-finding thing!"

He just wanted to find the thing Mister Xerxes had shown him earlier! It had been right in his view but--

" Huh?"

A flash of light erupted as a gem glowed vividly in the dark. Staring in awe, the young boy's eyes reflected the sparkling radiance glittering in the midnight-black room. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, just ready to burst out from the pure...the pure...

He couldn't even describe what such a feeling was called!
Mind frozen and throat constricted, the child was left completely awe-struck. At that moment, he didn't know what was real and what was not. Had it been... magic?

But just as quickly as it had started, the dazzling light dimmed to nothing. Left with naught but the warm after-feeling in his palm, the young boy blinked slowly as his thoughts began to zoom once more.

"I think....
I think I found just the thing to get us home."